Page:The Popular Magazine v72 n1 (1924-04-20).djvu/145

 James, below in the cabin smoking cigarettes and meditating on matters, had just stuffed “Treasure Island” through a porthole when the others came below.

“Dead calm,” said Dicky.

“And now I suppose we'll be drifting for days,” said James. “Good heavens! In this old tub.”

“Well, one can't help the wind,” said Dicky.

“I know,” said James, “but it's not the wind so much as the boat; as a matter of fact she's too small for long-distance cruising. What I propose is that we all shift on board the Dulcinea when we pick her up.”

“And leave the Baltrum!” said Sheila.

“Yes. She can follow on after us to Havana.”

“Larry will never leave her,” said the girl. “He doesn't like big yachts.”

“Well, he can stick in her and I'll lend him two more of my crew to help work her.”

“He's no real good at navigating, and besides,” said Sheila, “I can't leave him.”

“Why on earth not?”

“Because I don't want to be separated from him. We've always been together in thick and thin.”

“But he's only a servant.”

“Oh, dear no,” said Sheila. “He's much more than that. Larry's just like part of myself, more—I'd sooner lose my right arm than Larry.”

“Besides,” said Dicky, “it doesn't seem to be playing the game to desert the old hooker. She's carried us through till now, and done it well.”

“I don't ask you to desert her,” said James. “I'm simply suggesting that we go on board my boat and that she follow us on to Havana. As a matter of fact I want to stretch my legs and feel I have head-room enough to stand up in, for a while—besides, there's the cooking. I'm not grumbling, goodness knows, but it does seem insane when we can have every comfort to stick on for no reason in cramped quarters like these.”

“I can't leave Larry,” said Sheila, taking up her knitting, “and even if he consented to come on board your boat I would not like to leave the Baltrum—it would be unlucky for one thing, and, besides, there's the feeling I have for her. She has been our home for so long. No. I don't want to leave her.”

“I say,” said Dicky, suddenly turning to James, “you aren't getting cold feet, are you?”

It was an unfortunate question, for it touched the truth.

“I've got nothing but a wish to do the right thing,” said James, “and I think I've done it all along. If you feel I haven't, then there's an end to it.”

“I didn't mean anything,” said Dicky, “I didn't mean you hadn't done the right thing, I only asked”

“I know. Well, to tell the truth now that the work is mostly done, if you care to carry on without me, I shan't grumble. I came in for the fun of the thing, not for any profit, and I'm ready to stand out without asking for a cent—helping you, of course, all I can at Havana.”

“No,” said Sheila, “you have got to have your share. Only for you, we would never have done anything. Why, the Baltrum is really yours. It was your money that really started the business, to say nothing of the help the Dulcinea has been. It's really your expedition—we are only partners.”

James said nothing for a moment. His one ambition to get out of the affair, to be free of responsibility and find himself back in his own cozy corner of life was not furthered by this generous view of the matter.

He recognized that she was speaking the truth. He had bought the Baltrum, bought the stores, helped with his yacht and his men, helped with his own hands. If there was any bother he would be the person held chiefly responsible—and heavens! what bother there might be! Old Forsythe's words came back to him with their hint that the whole business was possibly within the circle of the criminal law, a business romantic, appealing to the adventurous spirit, yet possibly leading to the dock.

“Look here,” said Dicky, a new idea striking him. “If you're fed up with the old hooker, why don't you go yourself in the Dulcinea, and leave us to work her? We can do it easily with Longley and join you at Havana.”

“Yes,” said Sheila, “why not?”

James lit another cigarette.

“I don't like the idea of leaving you people,” said he. “You'd be short-handed—unless I could leave you a couple more men.”

“Longley is enough,” said Sheila, “and the distance is not far; yes, do go, if you feel